the hearth; the house resounds.
Thy mother's husband on the altars cast
The salted cakes, and thus address'd his vows;
"Ye Nymphs that haunt the rocks, these hallow'd rites
Oft let me pay, and of my royal spouse
Now absent, both by fortune blest as now;
And let our foes as now, in ruin lie;"
Thee and Orestes naming. But my lord,
Far other vows address'd, but gave his words
No utt'rance, to regain his father's house.
Aegisthus then the sacrificing sword
Took from the basket, from the bullock's front
To cut the hair, which on the hallow'd fire
With his right hand he threw; and, as his slaves
The victim held, beneath its shoulder plung'd
The blade; then turning to thy brother spoke:
"Among her noble arts Thessalia boasts
To rein the fiery courser, and with skill
The victim's limbs to sever; stranger, take
The sharp-edg'd steel and show that fame reports
Of the Thessalians truth." The Doric blade
Of temper'd metal in his hand he grasp'd,
And from his shoulders threw his graceful robe;
Then to assist him in the toilsome task
Chose Pylades, and bade the slaves retire:
The victim's foot he held, and its white flesh,
His hand extending, bared, and stript the hide
E'er round the course the chariot twice could roll,
And laid the entrails open. In his hands
The fate-presaging parts Aegisthus took,
Inspecting: in the entrails was no lobe;
The valves and cells the gall containing show
Dreadful events to him, that view'd them, near.
Gloomy his visage darken'd; but my lord
Ask'd whence his sadden'd aspect: He replied--
"Stranger, some treachery from abroad I fear;
Of mortal men Orestes most I hate,
The son of Agamemnon; to my house
He is a foe." "Wilt thou," replied my lord,
"King of this state, an exile's treachery dread?
But that, these omens leaving, we may feast,
Give me a Phthian for this Doric blade,
The breast asunder I will cleave." He took
The steel and cut. Aegisthus, yet intent,
Parted the entrails; and, as low he bow'd
His